


Turning the tide

by Craftybadger1234



Series: Missing and odd moments: Sixth Year [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Daydreaming, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, Pre-Slash, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 14:37:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16243688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Craftybadger1234/pseuds/Craftybadger1234
Summary: Harry going over Dumbledore's death... and maybe having a change of heart about Draco. But he doesn't want to think about Draco. He's just tired and wants to sleep... on silk sheets.





	Turning the tide

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to CleopatraIsMyName for looking this over for me, and for reminding me the series is no longer G rated. :)
> 
> Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Ch 19: _Harry, however, had never been less interested in Quidditch; he was rapidly becoming obsessed with Draco Malfoy._
> 
> Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Ch 30: _He despised Malfoy still for his infatuation with the Dark Arts, but now the tiniest drop of pity mingled with his dislike. Where, Harry wondered, was Malfoy now, and what was Voldemort making him do under threat of killing him and his parents?_
> 
> \--------
> 
> I think we’re all familiar with the first quote, when Harry begins stalking Draco on the Map. 
> 
> The second is from just after Dumbledore dies and Draco is now gone, Disapparated with Snape and the others. It deserves sharing too, because it’s a definite change of heart from Harry’s point of view. 
> 
> Just the early beginnings of him considering Malfoy. Because we all know nothing _really_ happened between them until eighth year or Auror training or after they divorce their wives or, you know, whatever gets you going.

Harry stared out the train window, thankful that Hermione and Ron were both too tired to talk. The trip to London would be long enough without headache-inducing chit-chat. And anyway, they were all too wrung out after Dumbledore’s funeral. It was too much to take in and none of it felt real.

Thoughts of the Astronomy Tower continued to plague him. The chase through the castle grounds. And Snape Disapparating. Gone. Unpunished and unrepentant. 

Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. He didn’t want to run down that path again. It hurt too much to think of Dumbledore gone and Snape… Snape’s part in it all. He didn’t understand and it hurt too much. Better to push it aside and think on it when the emotions didn’t feel so raw.

Forget Snape and his treachery. He was gone. Gone with Bellatrix Lestrange. And Malfoy.

Draco.

As was becoming uncomfortably common when Harry tried not to think about Snape, thoughts of Draco Malfoy flooded his mind. What was Draco doing now? Was Voldemort upset with him for failing? Or was he happy that Dumbledore was dead, no matter how it came about?

Was Draco safe where he was? In Malfoy Manor probably. His own home. Surely he was safe enough there. The Manor wards would protect him from harm. Draco’s own room would be a fortress for him. He could sleep easy at night. 

Probably on silk sheets, the snobby ponce. Harry snorted to himself at the thought as he pulled his cloak tighter around himself. He’d never slept on silk sheets before. Never even seen any. What would that be like? Draco’s bed was probably massive, too. Easily fit them both.

Harry shook his head. He didn’t want to be in bed with Malfoy! No, he wanted to sleep on silk sheets. Just to see what it was like. And how it felt on his skin. He shifted in his seat and considered abandoning his cloak, feeling overheated. 

Instead he pulled out his wand to cast a cooling charm, because the idea of silk sheets was causing a _reaction_. He groaned softly, then darted eyes to Ron and Hermione, who were still curled up asleep. Harry adjusted his trousers, desperately hoping he wouldn’t have this aching erection all the way to London. Who knew silk sheets would get him going?

Silk sheets… that was what he wanted. Silk. On his skin. He could easily imagine slipping naked into bed, the cool sheets setting all his nerves alight. Did Malfoy sleep naked? Not that it mattered, because Harry didn’t care. But his brain supplied images of the pale naked body, fairly glowing against silky grey sheets. Unfortunately, his brain also added in a set of vivid red slashes crossing Malfoy’s cheek and chest.

He’d almost forgotten. Again. The sick swoop of regret was familiar at this point. Harry had no way of knowing, but he hoped that Snape was right and Draco would carry no scars. His face was clear, and that boded well for the slashes across his chest.

Dutifully his brain cooperated and the scars faded from the image of Draco in his mind, leaving skin as smooth and creamy as milk. In his mind, Malfoy writhed and twisted on the bed, although it could be a nightmare as easily as it could be an invisible lover. Their lives were so twisted and black with Voldemort coming to power, there was no way to know.

Enough! He shook his head and growled at his own thoughts. His cock still throbbed in his pants and he wasn’t sure anymore what was happening. It couldn’t be Malfoy that was getting to him. It was the sheets. Silk sheets.

Not Malfoy. Definitely not Malfoy. Because that would be weird. And gay. And he wasn’t ready to be weird or gay.

He pushed those thoughts violently away for another day when there wasn’t a madman trying to kill him. He wrapped his cloak tighter around himself and settled in for a nap before reaching London.


End file.
